


Decisions

by wingsofanillyrian



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: F/M, TAIL TEAM, angst-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofanillyrian/pseuds/wingsofanillyrian
Summary: Jude gets some help preparing for a dinner, only to find herself reeling at the end.





	Decisions

“I hate you.”

My opponent says nothing, unaffected by my goading.

“You’re useless. I should chop you to pieces.”

Still, no response. My pacing is furious enough that I’m surprised I don’t leave holes in the plush carpet.

“Honestly, why is putting my hair up so  _hard?”_ I glare at my reflection in the mirror. It almost makes me miss Madoc’s estate, where I always had someone to pin my locks up in complicated styles. It always looks so easy, until I have to do it myself.

No matter how many times I try, my hair refuses to cooperate. I’d washed it, combed it, and tried coiling it atop my head in three different styles, but none of them would stay. A frustrated growl rips out of me and I slam the brush onto the dresser.

“Someone’s a bit testy today.”

I whip around to find an amused Cardan leaning in the doorway. No sign of his coveted crown that is usually perched precariously upon his raven hair. I narrow my eyes at him, suddenly very aware of my disheveled appearance. I’m only wearing a knee-length dressing gown; my silk dress for tonight still hangs from the four-poster bed.

I do not try to cover myself, as some girls my age might. I am not embarrassed by the scars that fleck my legs or the slight curve of my hips, the bulkiness of muscle on my arms. So I let him stare, and stare, and stare at me until I’ve had enough.

“Can I help you?”

Cardan makes a point of dragging his dark eyes from my chest to my toes and back up, finally settling on my face. That’s fine with me. If he wants to be distracted by the scandalous amount of leg I’m showing, that’s his problem.

“Earth to Cardan,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Well, originally I came by to tell you that the Seelies sent word about dinner tonight.” He pushes off the doorframe, swaggering inside a few steps.

“They did?” I perk up, motioning him inside and closing the door. “What did they say?”

For ages, I’d been trying to garner their support to the throne in preparation for the inevitable war. And so far, the Seelie Queen had been adamant about staying neutral, refusing to support either side. But we would need all the allies we could get. Lucky for us, I was stubborn as hell.

“I’ll tell you in a minute.” Placing his hand on the small of my back, Cardan ushers me to the seat in front of the vanity and pushes on my shoulders. I quirk a brow at him in the mirror.

“What?” He asks. “I’ll help you with this rat’s nest that you call a hairdo. Just sit down.”

“You’re going to voluntarily do something nice for me?” A very un-Cardan like gesture. There must be a deeper motive. “At what cost?”

“None. I  _can_ be nice simply for the sake of being kind, Jude.”

I frown and take a seat, smoothing my dressing gown as best I can. It rides up to my thighs, and I do my best to ignore the way his gaze lingers on them. “I didn’t know your talents included hairdressing,” I joke.

Cardan’s usual flirtatious expression shutters. I can almost sense the gates slam shut inside him, locking away any emotions my words have brought forth. Reaching around me for the hairbrush, he mutters, “I used to help my sisters sometimes. You know, before your father helped my brother murder them.”

I wince as he rakes the brush through my hair. “I’m sorry, Cardan, I really am.” I don’t know why I say it; I had no part in Madoc’s actions that fateful night. I’ve turned my back on him in favor of making Faerie a better place and preserving Oak’s throne.

“It’s fine,” he sighs, separating my hair into three sections. “I used to braid Rhyia’s hair for her all the time. She was the nicest to me, out of all my siblings.”

I’m startled by the ease of the admission. I try and gauge his expression in the mirror, but his face is carefully blank. “She taught you how?”

He nods. “When I was just a young boy. It’s been awhile since I’ve done it, so I might be a bit out of practice.”

“That’s okay,” I say, my heart melting the slightest bit. “Take your time.”

He works in silence, his nimble, cold fingers brushing the nape of my neck as he braids. He is indeed out of practice and has to start over twice before he’s satisfied with how it looks.

“Tilt your head forward,” he murmurs as he gets close to finishing. I do and close my eyes. I never know how to respond when Cardan lets his vulnerability to the surface. I don’t have much of my own past to offer- its mostly common knowledge.

Lost in thought, I brush the bug that had been tickling my ankle away. Cardan gasps and steps away. I snap my head up, searching for what caused him to move-

“Was that your  _tail_ on my calf?”

“Yes,” he rasps hoarsely, his cheeks flushed with color. My brow furrows.

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s- very sensitive.”

“Interesting,” I muse, tucking that information away for later.

My eyes are locked on said tail as it swishes across the carpeted floor, curving around him and seeming to strain towards me. I reach for it, curious to see if the tuft of hair at the end is as soft as it looks. Cardan snatches his tail up before I have the chance.

“Your hair is done,” he says, and clears his throat. “What I originally came here to say, before I got distracted, was that the Seelie queen isn’t coming for dinner tonight.”

My heart sinks and I slump back into the chair. “Of course she isn’t.” I shake my head, gaze falling to where my hands are folded in my lap. I’m not the least bit surprised that she waited this long to tell us, either. She likes to be dramatic and leave her victims on edge.

“Wait.” My brow furrows. There’s one thing I don’t understand. “If she isn’t coming, how come you still did my hair for me?”

“I know how much effort you put into preparations for tonight.” Cardan’s quiet tone draws my attention back to his face. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, almost as if he’s nervous. “So I figured I would ask if you would like to dine with me.”

I’m stunned into silence, my stomach churning at the offer. His eyes swirl as he waits for me to speak. But what would I even say? I cannot outright refuse to dine with the king; if anyone heard, rumors would spread through the castle like wildfire.

But accepting such an offer would be nearly as terrible. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Cardan was…  _Courting_ me. agreeing to take dinner with him  _privately_  means accepting that we feel something for each other. It means that we’re both willing to try.

But  _am_ I willing to try? There is no future for me as Cardan’s queen. The Fair folk would never accept a human as their queen, I realized that long ago.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” he grumbles, clearly unable to bear the awkward silence any longer. His tail has slipped free from wherever he’d tucked it earlier and drags on the ground as he sulks toward the door.

“Wait,” I call, before my head can tell me to stop. “I… I would love to dine with you.”

Cardan’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t need to agree out of pity. I get it-“ He steps back when I reach for him- “You don’t want me like I want you. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

My heart turns to dust. The air is sucked from my lungs. The room spins, and I clutch the bedpost for support. The attraction I fought so hard to bury deep within came clawing to the surface, revived by his admission.

“You really mean that?” I ask, breathless.

“I do.” He smiles sadly. “The invitation still stands- but only if you’re going to come because  _you_ want to.”

The door clicks softly as he closes it behind him, leaving me to weigh my options. I stare at that damned dress again. I can almost feel the weight of the heavy silk on my shoulders. I glance at my reflection, marveling at the perfect braid that hangs down my back. Cardan may wear many masks in the public eye, but rarely does he ever wear one with me.

The rational part of me rages as I stand, demanding I sit and stay in my room. But my heart beats loud above the useless noise, banging against the cage I had placed it in. I let it lead as I slip the dress over my head, careful not to ruin the braid.

I will join Cardan for dinner. And I will decide how I feel about him afterwards.

I’ll decide whether or not I should love him.


End file.
